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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399991">Signs Point to Gus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas'>htbthomas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Psych (TV 2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box Treat, Gen, Gus is Psychic for a Day, Psychic Abilities</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29399991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gus has a gut feeling that he's psychic today. Shawn's not so sure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Burton "Gus" Guster &amp; Shawn Spencer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Signs Point to Gus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/gifts">LadySilver</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Do you doubt my knowledge of this fair city, sir?" Shawn's voice came from behind him, loud and mock-offended.</p><p>Gus didn't slow his pace or turn around, despite the steep incline of the San Francisco street. "I doubt a lot of things, Shawn." He pivoted at the street corner. It had to be here; he had a feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach. "That you've memorized the location of all the cupcake shops in town is just one of the—"</p><p>Gus stopped in front of the bakery. There in the window, among a display of many tempting treats he'd like to try, was a platter of rainbow-iced cupcakes. A sense of vindication washed through him. <i>Yes.</i></p><p>Shawn stuttered to a stop behind him. "Huh. Well, maybe I've never been down this street before."</p><p>Gus turned slowly to him, arching an eyebrow. "The street where Juliet works?"</p><p>Shawn shrugged. "Or maybe I was on my phone. Among Us is addictive, man!" He kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. "Doesn't prove anything."</p><p>"What it <i>proves</i>," Gus said, enunciating every word, "is that I can smell an afternoon snack a mile away."</p><p>Shawn wobbled his head in agreement. "Ah, yes, I can admit that your Afternoon Snack Mojo is indeed strong."</p><p>"<i>Best</i> admit." He bumped fists with Shawn. "But also that I'm psychic today."</p><p>He didn't know why it was happening, or how long it would last, but how else could he explain A) he'd been able to find an empty metered parking space everywhere they went, B) he'd just known that Juliet would be calling Shawn to say she'd have to skip lunch today, and C) (the most telling of all) that the bistro would have flambéd Atlantic oysters in shiitake sauce as the special.</p><p>"It could all be coincidence, my Pillsbury Grand." He poked a finger toward Gus' midsection.</p><p>Gus dodged it as easily as if he knew it was coming. Which he did. "Fine. I bet I can predict anything. Just name it."</p><p>"All right, all right, I'm game," Shawn said. "Close your eyes."</p><p>Gus complied. He felt a tingling of possibility, as if he could sense the whole world around him—every living thing, every object, every trajectory of every decision. "But if I win, you really have to follow through, got it?"</p><p>Silence. </p><p>"Was that a nod?" Gus could feel it, but with Shawn, you had to hold him accountable.</p><p>"Yes." Shawn hummed, clicked his tongue a couple times, then said, "Name the next car to turn the corner behind you—color and make."</p><p>"It's gonna be a..." He reached out with his senses and suddenly he knew. "Burgundy. PT Cruiser."</p><p>"Going for the long shot, huh? Okay, okay."</p><p>They waited, Gus with his eyes still closed, for what seemed like a long time. Maybe he wasn't psychic today? Maybe everything had been an elaborate series of coincidences?</p><p>But then he heard the sound of a rumbling engine behind him coming to a stop at the light, then heading toward them and past. Gus opened his eyes. Exactly as he had predicted. A burgundy-colored PT Cruiser was disappearing into the distance down the hill. He smiled in satisfaction, then opened his mouth to crow his victory to Shawn—</p><p>Shawn was gazing at him with the biggest awe-filled smile Gus had ever seen. "You did it!" Shawn said giddily, clapping Gus on the shoulder, hard. "You really <i>are</i> psychic today!"</p><p>"Told you," he agreed, preening. </p><p>"Oh man, we gotta do something with this. Maybe hit a casino? There's one on the way to Pier 39, which isn't—"</p><p>"Hold up! You think I'm going to waste this gift on gambling? Even you used your 'gift' on solving crimes," Gus tutted.</p><p>"Yeah, but I wasn't really <i>psychic,<i> remember? If I had been, you know I would have—"</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Fine. It can be one—one!—of our options today. But only if Juliet doesn't need us."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Party pooper," Shawn said. But his eyes glittered with joy... and pride.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>But first, there was a bet to settle. That gut feeling from before was turning into gnawing hunger.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Hello," Gus said to the cashier inside the bake shop. "I'm Burton Guster, and this is my friend, Long Tall Sally."</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Short for Salamander Ignatius Reginald Jones," Shawn put in without hesitation.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Gus didn't acknowledge him. "And I'm gonna have one..." He drew a wide oval in the air with his finger to encompass the entire glass-fronted pastry case. "...of everything. He's paying."</i>
  </i>
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